Shotgun Congress

Sidney’s Big Day- a few years old. A story about a kid. He wants to be cool.

Sidney’s favorite day is Friday. This Friday, in particular, was especially important. He awoke early, bathed, dressed, and seated himself at the kitchen table a full thirty minutes before his mother’s usual seven o’clock coffee. He clutched a white piece of paper and stared at the dotted line where his mother’s signature would go, he couldn’t afford to miss her today.

He’d packed together the supplies earlier that morning. A peanut butter sandwich, a pack of sardines and a bottle of Tylenol PM were squeezed it into a small cooler he’d previously filled with ice. He didn’t like sardines. The stairs began to creak. He closed the little red lunchmate and scurried to his seat.

“Good Morning, Mom,” he said as she entered the kitchen.

Her eyes widened as she clutched her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Sidney. You scarred me half to death. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing up so early?”

“Sorry mom, I just wanted to make sure you signed my permission slip.”

She paused to rub her face the both hands. She was confused. Sidney’s voice reverberated in her head as head as she fought through the morning fog.

“Permission slip?”

“Yes, the zoo, remember? Today we are taking our field trip to Omaha, to Henry-Doorly.”

“Oh right.”

She opened the cupboard and removed a cup. Then she filled it, turned on the corner TV and sat down blowing on the hot black liquid. A petite Asian woman started reading off the day’s headlines as she began to rub her right temple.

“Mom”

“Yes, dear?” she replied without looking up.

“Will you sign it now?”

“Oh, yeah, sure…do you have a pen?”